


A Toast to Your Success

by BeautyGraceOuterSpace



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Drabble, Gen, Jim is smarter than anyone gives him credit for and a good kid, Proud Dad Chris Pike, first year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 08:41:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20618174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautyGraceOuterSpace/pseuds/BeautyGraceOuterSpace
Summary: In which Chris just wants to celebrate Jim getting through his first year at the academy, and instead winds up more than a bit sloshed. Based on a prompt from insane-sociopath.





	A Toast to Your Success

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InsaneSociopath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneSociopath/gifts).

He’d done it. Son of a gun, that sonofabitch had done it. Chris could hardly believe it, but looking over the transcript it was impossible to argue with the irrefutable fact that Jim Kirk had finished half of his second year by the end of his first. 

_I’ll be damned. _

When he’d dragged a drunk, bruised and bleeding, belligerent and egotistical James T. Kirk from the floor of a bar in Riverside, Iowa a year ago and offered him this chance, he’d thought for sure the kid wouldn’t last two months. 

Chris had taken the risk, vouched for Jim to the admiralty, begged and cashed in favors and done everything in his power to get them to give the kid a fighting chance, and now…

A laugh of disbelief escaped him as he scrolled through the pages on his PADD; excellent marks, glowing professor reports, damn near perfect attendance… hell, the kid only had two minor disciplinary infractions for the entire year. 

Somewhere along the way, Jim had loosened up a bit. He’d lost some of the chip on his shoulder and the edge in his smile, and even made a friend or two if Chris’ frequent sightings of him with cadets Vro and McCoy were to be any indicator.

And as the year progressed, the admiralty and staff had begun to see what Chris had always seen in Kirk: potential. Their cautions had grown less frequent, their concerns less pronounced, and– in the cases of a few disgruntled and haughty individuals who couldn’t be bothered to see the best in others– their infrequent complaints more and more absurd. 

With a smile that felt like it would split his face in two, Chris sent a message off to Jim asking him to come by his office at his earliest convenience, and opened his lower desk drawer. He removed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, setting the lot on his desk and pouring himself a few fingers to start. 

Jim couldn’t come right away, but he’d be there as soon as he was able. Well, Chris didn’t mind waiting. He finished his drink and poured himself another. What harm would a little buzz be, after all? The academic year was finished, and this was a celebration for crisssakes! 

As the time passed by, and the bottle less heavy, Chris lost track of how many drinks he’d had. 

But when the knock sounded at his door and turning his head caused a dizzy spell that nearly unbalanced him completely, he figured it was probably more than a few. 

Oops. 

________________________________________________________________

Jim knocked on the door, awaiting permission to enter. He was not expecting to here, too loud and a little slurred: “C’me in!” 

He pushed open the old fashioned wooden door, halting at the threshold. “You wanted to see me, sir?” 

“Come in, come in!” Pike repeated, ushering him in with a wave of his hand. “Sit down and have a drink!” 

Jim perched himself on the edge of the chair opposite Pike, the desk and liquor between them. He eyed the glasses in confusion for a moment before asking, “Sir?” 

“This, Kirk,” Pike began, pouring an overly generous portion of whiskey and passing the tumbler clumsily over to Jim, “is a celebration!” 

Jim took the glass and held it steady as he swirled the liquid around the edge. “A celebration, sir? Of what?” 

“Of you!” Pike barked with a laugh, leaning back heavily in his chair, a hand wrapped around his own glass as he pointed his index finger at Jim. 

The man was completely plastered. Jim fought down a smile as he took a sip of his own drink and asked “What did I do to warrant a celebration, sir?” 

“What did–” Pike scoffed, sliding his PADD across the desk to Jim. “That’s what you did!” 

Jim scanned the screen quickly before replying, “Is this my transcript?” 

Pike continued on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Top of your class in everything except xenolinguistics and warp mechanics.” 

“I just–” 

“Rave reviews from your professors!” 

“Rave reviews?” Jim laughed. “Professor Alestra said right here, ‘Opinionated to a fault and unwilling to accept that he may be wrong about–’” 

“Only two missed days of classes–” 

“Bones made me stay home. Flu.” 

“And double the recommended first year course load,” Pike finished over Jim’s interjections. “Jim, how’d you do it?” 

Jim shrugged disinterestedly. “I just–” 

“Just nothing, kid,” Pike cut him off. “This–” he tapped the PADD where Jim’s year was outlined before them, “–is amazing. I have to say, I wasn’t sure you’d pull it off–” 

“Well,” Jim interjected, “I haven’t pulled it off yet…” 

Quieter, and infinity more sincere, Pike continued: “Jim… I am so proud of you.” 

Jim was quiet for a long moment before he replied, with equal sincerity, “Thank you, Chris.” 

________________________________________________________________

Chris had intended on continuing his praises, because a year with Jim Kirk under his wing had taught him that the kid didn’t believe in himself half as much as those who knew him seemed to, and doubted himself more than he should. He intended on raising a toast to Jim’s success, and to the end of the year, and politely offering to discuss advanced placement into some additional summer courses to help Jim continue expediting his academic career. He intended on a lot of things. 

All of which were brought to a screeching halt when the emptiness of his stomach combined with a lot of room temperature whiskey and created a violent, expulsionary reaction. 

He made it to the trashcan in time, and over his own retching could just hear the chirp of a comm and Jim’s voice coming closer saying, “Bones? Got anymore of those detox kits? Pike’s office. Thanks.”


End file.
